


Coming Home

by lunaesomnium



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Family Feels, Gen, Overprotective Mikaelsons, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaesomnium/pseuds/lunaesomnium
Summary: A chance encounter between Elijah and Harry has the Original mistaking Harry for his long dead brother, Henrik, which rouses long dead memories in Harry. As he fights his newly awakened memories and struggles with his new siblings, Harry wonders if his long held dream of having a family is as out of reach as he once thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> its a fix it via family fluff 
> 
> no i don't have an excuse

It's been almost two years since the war has ended. Almost one since the _Aurors_ rounded up most of the Death Eaters and almost six months since Ginny and Harry broke things off amicably, citing that they were better friends than lovers. Now, if Harry remembers correctly, she's quite happily dating Luna.

Harry is eighteen years old, on the cusp of becoming a year older, when he realizes that he doesn't have a clue what he wishes to do with his life.

It's a rather startling realization that without the war to drive him forward, he has no motivation. He's tried to confide in Hermione or Ron once or twice, but no matter how well he explained it, they didn't understand.

This wasn't 'just a phase,' or something frivolous – Harry was well and truly lost and more than that, he felt as if there was this large piece of him missing. There was an emptiness in his heart and soul that he couldn't explain away. It had been there his entire life, but the emptiness had only become more pronounced after the war and he was left to fester in his thoughts and in his sorrow.

There were times where he'd gaze in the mirror and wouldn't recognize the person standing there. There were times he'd dream of people he could barely see or remember when he woke, but he'd still wake with a nostalgia so potent, it sent him reeling every time and had him sobbing into his pillow.

This to Harry, of course, only solidified the notion that there was something deeply and irrevocably wrong with him. Why would he get so emotional over blurry and faceless strangers in half-remembered dreams? Why did he sometimes fail to recognize himself in the mirror?

He never found an answer to his questions and refused to confide in Hermione and Ron and further. Though great friends, they were currently in the honeymoon stage of their courtship, and through the lens of their overwhelming happiness, they wouldn't understand Harry's concerns.

So Harry did his best to ignore the emptiness, the dreams, and he did his best not to look in the mirror. He goes through the motions, smiles when he has to, and avoids contact with friends.

The emptiness only gets worse.

But that's alright.

Harry almost feels like he deserves it.

* * *

Tonight was the weekly Weasley family dinner.

Ron had been trying to get him to come since he and Ginny had broken things off, but he didn't feel right about coming around anymore. Not because he was still pining after Ginny – but without their relationship to distract him, he'd gotten so much more morose that being in the company of those that were so cheerful (and how could they not be? Fred had astonishingly pulled through after being thought dead, Ron and Hermione were planning to marry, and Bill and Fleur were expecting their second child) simply made it worse.

But, Ron was Ron, and he refused to take no for an answer. These past few weeks, he'd become increasingly more persistent and last week, he'd almost bodily thrown Harry into the Floo. Though the effort wasn't appreciated, the contact was nice. It'd been nearly six months since anyone had really touched Harry, and the warmth of Ron's hand had grounded him considerably. Harry had almost considered going to the Burrow before he talked himself out of it.

Harry knew that Ron would simply get more and more stubborn as the weeks passed and Harry didn't want to see what sort of thing Ron had cooked up this week to convince Harry to come to dinner. His efforts last week had almost worked – which wasn't good at all. As far as Harry was concerned, this self-imposed isolation was better for him than being around people. They'd just ask Harry what was wrong and press and press when Harry didn't explain. Either that, or they would ignore him entirely and continue to be nauseatingly happy, which was even worse.

That was why, this week, Harry left his flat to go for a walk before Ron could arrive and start pestering him. If Harry avoided Ron entirely, then he couldn't be persuaded to go to family dinner at the Weasleys – because despite how much he wanted it, he wasn't family.

He didn't belong there.

It's twenty minutes into the walk that Harry regrets his decision. He'd left home without a jacket and in a nearly threadbare t-shirt, not anticipating how cold it would get once night fell. He has half a mind to talk his wand out of his holster and cast a warming charm, the muggles surrounding him be damned, but then he remembers the Statue of Secrecy and banishes the thought. He'd rather battle the cold and slowly freeze than explain to a team of _Obliviators_ why he thought pulling out his wand in front of muggles was a good idea. Besides, the cold isn't too bad.

It fits his mood rather well.

He walks for another ten minutes before the street goes mostly empty. Harry checks his surroundings once more. There's only one woman on the other side of the street who looks to be going into a pub and a man in a suit behind him. The man looks vaguely familiar, though Harry ducks his head and begins walking faster before the other man can recognize him. Harry has no desire to be accosted by some acquaintance while out near Muggle London – not while he's doing his best to drown in self-pity and freezing half to death. Because Harry had turned so quickly, he wasn't able to see how the man's eyes had widened at the sight of his face or how he'd frozen in place.

"... Henrik?"

The name nearly echoes in the near silence of the street. Farther down the street, a streetlamp flickers once before going dark.

Although it wasn't his name being called, the grief-stricken tone has him stopping in his tracks, even as the name itself resonates deep inside himself, stirring up vague memories and images, even as he's very sure he's never heard the name before in his life.

Harry turns around slowly, noting absently that the woman he'd spotted was nowhere to be seen and that must have meant, by default, that the man was speaking to him.

"That's ... not my name –" Harry says this slowly and hesitantly. The name feels like something out of a half-remembered dream and though he's been a bit out of sorts lately, he's almost positive he knows his own name – and Henrik isn't it.

(But it_ is_).

The conflicting feelings of him both trying to deny and respond to the name have his head spinning.

Once he's fully turned around, he's able to get his first look at the man who called out that name so despondently and distantly he wonders just why short-trimmed hair looks so wrong on the other man. When Harry's words sink in and when Harry shows no recognition upon viewing the man's face the man expression, which had been so hopeful and heartbroken, immediately falls. Somehow that expression makes that near constant emptiness inside his chest_ ache_ and Harry flinches, immediately scrambling for something else to say.

"I-I'm Harry. I'm so sorry - I don't know why I turned around, were you looking for someone?" Something about the man eases the aching emptiness in his soul. Harry wonders why that is. He feels lighter than he has in weeks – maybe _months_ – and it has him feeling flustered and like a kid again. His ears begin burning when he realizes that maybe the man hadn't been calling out to him – and perhaps he'd just prematurely responded to that name that had sounded so familiar when the man was instead calling out to someone else.

The other man tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace and for one absurd moment, Harry's overcome with the urge to push the man's cheek's together to get rid of the unsightly expression and perhaps even make him laugh. Just as Harry finishes pushing down that urge because he's sure that wouldn't go over well, the other man begins to speak.

"No, no. It's fine. I was … merely reminiscing. You remind me of someone I once knew. I am El–"

"—ijah." Harry interrupts, the name rushing unbidden from his lips. Just as he opens his mouth to apologize for interrupting so rudely, he sways on his feet, suddenly very dizzy. "Elijah …?" He calls out once more in a voice he can barely recognize as his, as it sounds much younger and very confused.

The images that had initially come to him the first time the other man – Elijah – called out that name become brighter and brighter behind his eyelids, even as his vision grays and starts to go black around the edges.

He sways once more and he would've fallen to the ground if Elijah hadn't darted forward to catch Harry in his arms. When Elijah inadvertently brushes his fingers against the exposed nape of Harry's neck, the onslaught of images becomes worse and worse and worse, strange scenarios playing out in the forefront of Harry's mind that somehow feel like his memories. Which is impossible because they feature people Harry is sure he's never before seen in his life.

"Hen – Harry? Harry ar –"

Harry doesn't get to hear the rest of what Elijah begins to say, because in that instant everything goes black and he's dragged into a set of memories that aren't his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed the title from once upon a dream -- i thought this sounded better, what do yall think? i really need more tvd/hp xover fics in my life and im about ready to just write them at this point i really am im CONSUMED with need for tvd/hp xovers once more if you have prompts send them my way i might write them 
> 
> (i have this nebulous idea of harry potter traveling to a new world after teddy dies because hes grieving and he cant stand being in his original world, immortal as he is, and it turns out the whole master of death thing and the whole having powerful magic thing is very attractive to vampires but i also want to write this same premise in three different fandoms / three different fics ... im torn)

He stands beside his sister, looking on as Elijah and Niklaus spar.

He's just recovered from some illness that left him feverish and on the verge of death, and just yesterday, his mother had announced that his fever has broken and he would recover in less time than he had been sick. Though he didn't understand why, his family was still on edge and had taken to becoming even more protective than usual.

He had been planning to sleep off the last of his sickness, but Rebekah (who could best Elijah any day when it came to being overprotective of him) had other ideas. She had all but hauled him out of their shared living space, stating that he needed fresh air to truly recover. And she looked only a moment away from carrying him in her arms (never mind that he was surely too heavy for her to hold) but he had dodged any attempt of hers to baby him with a stern look that first had made his sister laugh before she acquiesced and promised not to coddle him.

The sunlight hurts his eyes and any minuscule movement has him wincing, as his body is still wretchedly sore from being sick, but Rebekah was right – the fresh air does make him feel better. Still, he can't exactly muster up any excitement the way he normally does when Niklaus and Elijah spar, as it's taking most of his energy to stay upright, but he's sure his two brothers know of his admiration for their swordsmanship.

He doesn't pay attention to their banter and he only realizes he's spaced out when Nikalus definitively wins this round of sparring, though it makes their father irrationally angry. As their father advances on Niklaus, who is doing his best to seem smaller, he almost, _almost_ steps forward though he remembers himself just in time. Last time their father had unfairly picked on Niklaus, he'd tried to come to his elder brother's aid, but Rebekah had grabbed his arm and forced him to stay at her side. She had gripped him so tightly she had given him bruises, and it's that's one of the reasons he forces himself not to say anything, or do anything to help Niklaus. He'd really rather not have bruises exacerbate his soreness.

The other reason is –

When he had confronted Rebekah and asked why had she held him back, why had she not let him help their brother, she had shaken him and screamed and told him she couldn't _bare_ it if their father had turned his malevolence to him and Niklaus wouldn't be able to handle the guilt, so could he _please, _please_ never_ try to interrupt their father and brother again, _please_.

He'd agreed.

Though he regrets it now.

Their father is being especially cruel today and it hurts him to watch their father pick on his brother, and he's just about to _do _something, regardless of his promise to Rebekah, when –

"You've made your _point_, Mikael." Their mother says, off to the side – ever the reason to their father's rage.

But their father can't ever let her have the last word. He launches his blade into the ground near Niklaus' neck and makes one last cutting remark before storming off.

Their father is barely five steps away when he runs from Rebekah's side to Niklaus, tiny hands searching for any injury on his elder brother. He finds none.

And he cries, though not for himself, but for his brother Niklaus, who receives nothing but derision and hatred from their father.

* * *

The boy wakes slowly.

After he had collapsed, Elijah had uncharacteristically been at a loss for what to do. Even if he had no intention of helping the boy, his fingers clutched onto the lapels of Elijah's suit jacket tightly, fingers bunching the fabric even harder when Elijah made to move away. Which of course, would be no problem for his vampiric strength, but the sight of the boy curling towards him, clutching at him, had awoken a nostalgia so deep and heart-wrenching, it almost felt like a blasted stake to the heart.

Henrik used to do the very same thing.

By the time he'd died, it had become an infrequent occurrence, though his need for contact while sleeping was still well-known through the village. It had largely embarrassed the growing boy, but Elijah always found the quirk endearing.

It's the nostalgia that prompts Elijah to take the boy –_ Harry, _he reminds himself, the boy's name is _Harry _– back to his lavish hotel, but it's his need for answers that has him pulling a chair as close to the bed as possible and steepling his fingers. He resists the urge to smooth out the wrinkles in his suit jacket.

He finds he quite likes the physical manifestation of one quirk that this boy has in common with his brother.

(It had taken nearly thirty minutes for Elijah to coax the boy to release the lapels of his jacket. He took care in trying to gently pry the boy's fingers from his person, but his efforts were all in vain as the moment he would get a finger free, the boy would tighten his grip with the rest of his fingers. On a whim, after the boy has managed to cling even tighter than he'd originally been, Elijah runs an even gentler hand through the boy's hair – a technique that had always allowed the person Henrik clung to while sleeping make a quick retreat, as it had, for some reason, calmed his brother enough to pry his fingers loose without hurting him.

Curiously, it worked just as well on Harry.)

He had dozens of unanswered questions that he _desperately_ needed answers to, for in the time the boy had been asleep, a tender, fragile hope had risen in his chest that he could _not_ ignore no matter how hard he tried.

The boy responded to Henrik's name.

The boy knew his.

The boy _recognized_ him.

Elijah wanted to believe what his heart was telling him – that his brother had somehow been reborn, but he would not impose his belief on this boy. If it somehow turned out to be a mistake, he would not force the boy to live a lie and he would let Harry go, no matter how much he wished for his brother to somehow be alive once more.

Elijah is jolted out of his thoughts when the boy's heart begins to beat faster and faster, signaling that he's struggling against sleep and has begun to awaken. It takes only a moment for the boy to open his eyes and his heart predictably beats faster when he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, though it calms when he notices Elijah.

Curious.

"'Lijah?" The boy slurs, still half asleep. "… wh're did all your hair go?"

Elijah freezes.

His hands fall from their steepled position and some bastardized version of shock and elation courses through long-dead veins. That tender, fragile hope becomes infinitely stronger and there is little doubt that the boy in front of him is his little brother reborn.

For the boy had spoken not English as he called out to Elijah – but _Old Norse._

* * *

"I want to go see the men transform," he tells Niklaus one night. The moon isn't quite yet in its proper phase to see such a thing, but if he wishes to see the men turn to wolves, he'll have to convince his brother to take him.

Instead of an answer, Niklaus merely drops his sword and he turns wide, terrified eyes to his youngest brother. "Henrik, n-no, it is _far _too dangerous for us to do so. Father would –"

"I don't care about father," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. And it's not exactly true, but father has been so, so, _so_ mean to Niklaus lately and this rebellion is surely harmless, though it would fill him no small amount of joy to know he's 'betraying' their father in such a way.

"It's too dangerous. No." Niklaus picks up his blade and begins to meticulously polish it, likely in an effort to get him to abandon the conversation.

"Fine," he says petulantly – like the boy of twelve summers he is. "I'll just go by myself then."

Niklaus' head snaps up at that and his expression is twisted in a protective rage. "Absolutely not. No – no. I will … take you," his elder brother says through gritted teeth.

He smiles, almost preening at having won this argument and after a moment Niklaus begins smiling as well, though he grumbles under his breath about spoiled younger brothers – to which he only grins wider, as he knows he's well and truly won.

The rest of the day passes in easy contentment. The rest of the family is busy and so it is just Niklaus and him sharing a comfortable silence that he often breaks to tell Niklaus random stories or jokes he remembers, to which Niklaus listens indulgently. Once or twice, his brother reaches to ruffle his hair or try to plait it, as his hair is plaited, though the plaits always unfurl the second Niklaus is finished. They both laugh at that and for the most part, their earlier argument is all but forgotten.

Neither of them are aware of the tragedy looming over his head.

* * *

Elijah doesn't want to leave the boy's – Harry's, _Henrik's_ – side, but he is not so selfish as to deny his family their right to see their reborn brother.

It takes only a moment to locate the vampire he had taken to traveling with while he was in Europe, and he enters the adjacent room swiftly, thankful that he'd had the foresight to buy rooms connected by a door, as he's not sure he could control his speed if he were made to traverse through the hall.

The vampire – an olive-skinned man named Ulric that Elijah believes Finn turned – rises to his feet when Elijah enters and makes to ask how he can be of service to the Original, though Elijah raises his hand to cut him off – he has no time for pleasantries today.

"Find Niklaus," Elijah commands of the vampire. "And tell him that Henrik lives."

**Author's Note:**

> hey follow me on tumblr at lunae-somnium i am dying for people to talk about tvd and tvd/hp xovers with


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